Deadly Gamble: The First Charlie Parker Mystery (25 page)

"Josh, this position is killing me," I
wailed. "I need someone to untie me." A sob escaped, a fine bit of
acting, I thought.

Seeing me get emotional confused him.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Charlie," he
said, almost kindly. I wondered if the booze was wearing off or if
he was having second thoughts about getting me involved.

"Could you just untie my hands? I can't stay
bent over like this."

He bent to work on the cords around my left
hand. I could see that the gun wasn't in his waistband. His not
having a weapon strengthened my odds quite a bit.

"I'm gonna have to retie you, Charlie," he
explained matter-of-factly, "but I'll let you sit up straight."

How kind.

The second my hand was free, I knew I had to
make my move. I raked my nails across his face, then tipped the
chair back and nailed him in the gut with my feet. It wasn't a
strong hit but it took him by surprise, knocking him against the
corner of the bed. He went over backward, landing hard on his neck,
his legs in the air.

I didn't waste any time. I fumbled with my
left hand to untie the cords around my right. Josh had the wind
knocked out of him, but I knew he wasn't down for long. I felt like
a pretzel twist, trying to reach across my body to work on the
ropes while keeping my head raised to watch for Josh's next
move.

He groaned, rolling to his side, his legs
falling heavily to the floor. I scrambled to get the rope loose. I
had a feeling he wouldn't get up in a good mood. My right hand and
foot came free. As I directed both hands toward freeing the left
foot I saw movement. Josh stood in front of me. Without thinking, I
jabbed out with my right foot, catching him in the groin. Sorry,
Josh, all's fair when defending your life.

He fell to the floor again, doubled in agony.
I turned my attention again to my left leg and had it free in a few
seconds. I scrambled to Josh's side, dragging the rope with me.

"Sorry about this," I said.

I wrapped the rope around his ankles, then
pulled the end of it between his legs and bound his wrists. My
knots were clumsy. I'd never pass the Girl Scout test now, but I
hoped the rope would hold him awhile in his already weakened
condition.

Pounding sounds from the front door brought
me back to the bigger picture.

"Police! Open up!" they shouted.

"Come in!" I screamed.

The scene became a blur after that. Uniformed
officers filled the house. Someone, thankfully, turned off the
blaring television set. One man, the one who seemed in charge,
congratulated me on subduing the suspect. I can't remember whether
I acknowledged him or not.

I was sitting on the bed, examining my
blistered wrists, when Kent Taylor walked in.

"We found the gun," he told me. "It was in
his car."

"Was it the murder weapon?"

"We'll confirm that with ballistics tests, of
course," he said, "but it's a nine millimeter."

"He admitted to me that he did them both," I
told Taylor. "Of course, what he'll say in court is another thing.
He also told me he'll get a good lawyer."

Kent shook his head in disgust. "Yeah, don't
they all?"

He glanced around the room, taking in the
cardboard boxes and folded bedding.

"What was going on here?" he asked.

"The child welfare people were making Josh
move in with his aunt. I came over to help him pack. He kept
telling me he wasn't going. Now, I guess he isn't."

"You want someone to take a look at those
wrists?" he asked. "One of the men could drive you to the emergency
room."

"Nah, that's okay. I'll doctor them myself
when I get home." Suddenly, the idea of bundling up in my own quilt
in my own bed was enormously appealing.

"I'll need a statement from you," Taylor
said. At my expression, he added, "It can wait until tomorrow."

I shuffled through the house, making sure I
hadn't left anything behind. I retrieved my purse from the kitchen
and my jacket from the tatty recliner near the front door.

At home, I took a shower and put on my thick
terry robe. I microwaved a cup of milk, added chocolate powder, and
carried it to the living room. I smeared antibiotic ointment on my
rope-burned wrists and wrapped them with a protective layer of
gauze. I looked like an attempted suicide survivor.

It wasn't until I took the first sip of my
hot chocolate that I realized I was a survivor. I could have very
easily been Josh's next victim. My hands began to shake and I had
to set the cup down. It was after one o'clock, but I knew I
wouldn't sleep tonight.

At six o'clock Rusty woke me up by licking my
fingers. In my exhaustion, I'd fallen asleep on the couch still
bundled in my robe. My joints and muscles complained as I attempted
to straighten them. I shuffled across the floor like a
ninety-year-old to let Rusty out the kitchen door. I took two
ibuprofin and crawled into my own bed wearing only my wrist
bandages.

The phone rang at eight, startling me out of
the best sleep I'd had in ages.

"Charlie, it's Stacy." Her voice was breathy,
excited. "Carla just called me. Is it true that you found the real
killer?"

I mumbled that it was true, and suggested she
meet me at the office in an hour. I closed my eyes, determined to
get just ten more minutes. When the phone rang again forty-five
minutes had passed.

Kent Taylor wanted to know what time I'd come
down to give my statement. My heart jumped when I realized that I
needed to be at the office in fifteen minutes. I told Kent I'd come
downtown right after that. I pulled on clean jeans and a short
sleeved cotton sweater and brushed my hair. The wrist bandages
really stood out, so I swapped the sweater for one with long
sleeves.

Stacy was waiting when I arrived at the
office at five after nine. Her skin glowed again, her eyes
sparkled.

"Have the police made it official yet?" I
asked.

"Detective Taylor confirmed Carla's call
right after I talked to you," she said. "Yes, it's official. Of
course, now Brad's talking about filing suit for false arrest, but
I'm just glad to have it over."

Of course. The
good
lawyer.

I filled her in briefly on last night's
culmination of the search. I also informed her that I'd be sending
a final bill for services. She didn't seem to mind.

"So, what now?" I asked.

She shuffled a little, knowing I was
referring to her marital problems and the "deep" soul searching
she'd done recently. Finally she said, "I don't know, Charlie.
Brad's been very supportive these last few days. Maybe it will all
work out anyway."

Yeah, maybe. How many years had she been
telling herself that? I kept my mouth shut. She was a big girl.
She'd decide for herself how much longer she could take his abuse.
She left a few minutes later.

Kent Taylor was fairly accommodating, as
police testimony goes. I gave my statement, most of which he'd
already put together.

"There's one other thing I still haven't
entirely resolved," I told him. "Who slashed my tire outside
Penguin's Bar, and who followed me home last Friday night? I'm
fairly sure I know who was behind it, but I'm not sure why." I told
him about Tompkins and his big financial losses with
Detweiller.

"Charles Tompkins is an investment banker,
isn't he? He probably just wanted to hush it up about his own
unwise money management. I'm sure it was nothing personal toward
you." he said. "You can press charges on the tire slashing," he
continued, shuffling the papers together inside the Detweiller
file. "As for being followed home, you don't have any proof of
that, do you? And no harm was done."

It was about what I expected from him. I told
him not to worry about the tire. I left feeling a little down. I
was poised to turn out of the downtown police station parking lot,
when a thought hit me. I had to make one more visit to Larry
Burke.

The red sports car was backing out of his
driveway when I arrived. I sped ahead to cut him off, honking
wildly.

"What the hell. . .?" Burke jumped from his
car, ready for a fight.

"Just a couple of quick questions, Larry." I
huffed the words out as I ran up the driveway.

"What questions? I thought you were done with
this."

"I'm just curious. Charles Tompkins had won
big on a horse called Bet The Farm. Two days later Gary headed for
Vegas, with you. Gary didn't skip out; he came back. But where's
the money? Tompkins never got it."

Burke's perfectly capped teeth gleamed as he
smiled. "This is rich, babe, I'll tell you."

I let the unwanted familiarity slide
past.

"Old Gary did get greedy. He wanted to keep
that money. Said Tompkins was a jerk who didn't need more than he
already had. See, Gary had a real attitude about those people at
that snooty country club. Couldn't believe they could have all the
shit they had, and still want more."

"So he decided to keep a chunk of it for
himself."

"Sure. Was Tompkins gonna make a big stink
about it? And lose his reputation as an investment banker? Hell, a
hundred grand sounds like a lot to you and me, but that guy takes
home three times that much every year."

So, what meant more to him, a one-time
jackpot or keeping the cushy job? I had a pretty good idea.

I filled in the blank. "So, Gary took the
money to Vegas and the two of you blew it having the time of your
lives."

He chuckled. "Actually, no. He had some other
money, about five grand."

From the sale of Stacy's watch.

"We spent that. He took that whole hundred
grand from the other deal and set up some kind of trust fund for
his kid."

"What!"

"Yeah, had a lawyer do it up and all. I think
the kid's supposed to get it when he turns twenty-one."

How ironic. A few more years and Josh would
have been rich on his own. Now, I felt sure an investigation would
take place into all Detweiller's business. As a convicted felon,
Josh couldn't inherit, and if they dug deep enough they'd find out
the money really belonged to Tompkins. His career would probably be
ruined, but he'd get the hundred thousand. Of course, if Josh were
never convicted...

Three days later I was sitting in my office,
tying up loose ends. Stacy's final billing had gone out and I was
now back on track with my tax returns, feeling better because I
would get everything filed on time. I'd resolved not to worry about
the outcome of Josh's trial. The little bit of press coverage I'd
heard on the case only served to make me angry. It appeared that
Josh had indeed gotten himself a good lawyer.

My travel agent sent
my plane tickets and hotel confirmation for my vacation to Kauai.
Six weeks away and believe me, I'm counting the days.

Author’s Note

I really hope you enjoyed reading Deadly
Gamble, the first book in my Charlie Parker mystery series. If so,
please tell your friends! You can also follow my
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As of the publication of this e-book, in late
2009, there are eleven books in the Charlie Parker series, with
more to come soon. And I will have updates and I hope some
surprises in store in the coming months, which I will announce
through my newsletter.

Besides writing my own books, I also teach a
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Happy writing and happy reading!!

With my best wishes,

Connie Shelton